


Somebody To Love

by nikirik



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: AU, M/M, Romance, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-02
Updated: 2013-02-02
Packaged: 2017-11-27 22:14:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/667066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikirik/pseuds/nikirik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU, in which James never joined the Force.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somebody To Love

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: The title is from Queen (obviously))), the quotes from Keats and Cicero.

Chapter 1. Each Morning I Get Up I Die A Little

As Robbie Lewis arrived at Heathrow, there was none to pick him up. Not that he expected someone would, with Val long gone, Lyn in Manchester and Mark (probably) in Australia. 

Still it made the loneliness impossible to bear. The wave of memories distracted him in a manner he almost managed to forget Val's orchids at the plane. 

The graveyard was sunlit, empty and perfectly silent.

"Hi, love, " he said, putting fresh flowers in the stand. "Long time no see."

He made a quick appearence at the nick before the eyes of the mighty Chief Superintendent Innocent, who clearly wasn't inclined to offer him his job back. 

He felt old and beaten as he reached his new place, far from their house (ain't their anymore, new lodgers and such). 

It was all pointless, wasn't it? You can't step into the river twice, so they say. And even if you do, it's already some new torrent, the banks being transformed, just the feeling of drowning never changing.

***

It was such a relief to see someone familiar, he almost pecked Laura Hobson on the cheek. 

She crooked her usual smile at him and next thing they were having diner at the local pub talking of old times. She let him escort her home and gave him a hug. 

_So, this is how it's gonna be?_ he thought while walking down the dim-lit Oxford streets. There was something soothing (although lacking some undefined part) in it. He'll be conducting seminars for young coppers, out of the field, seeing some appropriate woman, spending his time, aging.

 _Bloody hell,_ he desperately said to himself. _'m a whiny old bugger, should just take that's in front of me and stop complaining._

 

***  
It happened as he was visiting Val's grave for the third time.

He talks to Val as he usually does, mundane details and heart-to-heart confessions, until he notices someone watching him.

The tall blond lad slouches against the wall of the church.

Robbie feels the embarassment creeping from his neck to his cheeks.

"Always do this," stutters he. " Probably shouldn't, her being dead and deaf to the world."

The blond takes the drag on his fag and vaguely answers in a deep voice:

"Philosophy will clip an angel's wings." He blinks at Robbie's astonishment and adds, "Keats. One of the guys from the band."

Somehow Robbie knows exactly that he means.

"You're not a priest, are you?" suspects Robbie.

"'m not."

"Then were you visiting someone?"

"No. Just seeing round the church. Consuetudinis magna vis est."*

"He speaks Latin and claims he is not a priest."

The look on the young man's face is aloof. _It really is not my business, is it?_

" It's alright to talk...to our dearly departed, " the lad says softly."They are here as long as we remember them."

"You totally speak like our vicar back home in the North, " solemnly jokes Robbie, because this stranger somehow managed to bring him to the brink of tears and that's not gonna happen.

He catches the glimpse of the lad's lopsided smile and they stay a while in this companionable silence, listening to the bees and distant city noises. Robbie closes his eyes, dizzy with the flower fragrance and bitter smoke of the lad's fag. He feels appeasement and dwells on it in some sort of a meditation.

 

As he opens his eyes, he is alone again.

**Author's Note:**

> * The force of habit is great. (Cicero)


End file.
